SuperDead
by Windstorms
Summary: Sam and Dean watch The Walking Dead season finale together. Everything is going along fine until that Negan guy shows up. ;Some light references to established Wincest, spoilers up to 11x17 for SPN and 6x16 for TWD.
Sam sets the timer on the microwave and presses the 'Start' button. He pours himself a soda and grabs a bowl and some napkins, humming absently while he waits for the familiar pop-pop-pop noise to start up.

Dean would have a fit at Sam being in his domain, even if it was only to use the microwave. He smiles at the thought. What his brother doesn't know won't hurt either of them. Dean is on a supply run two towns over, which leaves Sam with a rare Saturday morning all to himself. He's still in his sleep pants and a loose t-shirt, and he hasn't bothered to shower or shave yet. With any luck, he'll have time to watch the season finale in peace before Dean gets back.

It had aired almost a week ago, but he hasn't been able to get any time alone to watch it yet. Dean's been hovering over him like a mother hen ever since they got back from Idaho. It's been all but impossible to get a few minutes to himself just to take a piss, let alone watch one of his favorite TV shows. And he hates watching _The Walking Dead_ with Dean. All he does is gripe about every minor plot detail and he talks during all the best parts.

It's kind of like their sex life, now that he thinks about it.

The timer goes off then, so he pushes that disturbing realization aside. He grabs the popcorn from the microwave, dumps it into the bowl and heads towards the war room with his snacks. A few moments later, he's seated at the table, mindful of how he sits so the position doesn't pull uncomfortably at his stitches. He eagerly fires up his laptop and quickly navigates to a website that's not entirely legal. A couple of minutes later the episode is downloaded and ready to go.

He's instantly absorbed in the show, but as it switches from one scene to another he's a little irritated that they aren't showing what happened to Daryl after the events of the previous episode. It seems like they're deliberately going out of their way to show where every character is _except_ Daryl. So not cool.

He should've known better than to start watching this out in the open, because he's barely made it through the opening scenes when he hears, "Dude. Please tell me you're not watching this crap again."

Dammit. So much for watching it in peace and quiet. He hadn't even heard Dean come in, because the beginning had been so intense he'd almost forgotten how to even swallow the popcorn he was chewing. He twists around to see Dean coming down the stairs, a few bags in hand. He pauses the show, but he doesn't get up to go and help. Dean can go put the stuff away himself and take a good sixty-five minutes or so to do it.

He turns back to his laptop, hand hovering over the touchpad and about to resume watching. "It's a good show. You should give it a chance."

"Can't we watch Breaking Bad instead?"

"No. _We_ are not watching anything together. _I_ am watching this. You're welcome to go do something else." Like, put the groceries and the ammo away and go wash and wax the car, he thinks to himself.

"But Breaking Bad-" Dean starts, already sounding like a petulant child.

Sam cuts Dean off before he can get started on a proper tirade. "Every time we watch that show you go around saying 'bitch' for days. Even more than you usually do." He refrains from adding that the last time they watched the show about the meth cookers Dean had gone around calling Sam a bitch at every opportunity and broken his own already disturbingly freakish record. Sam figures he's probably made his point and he'd rather not give Dean a reason to do it again. He undoubtedly would.

"Fine," Dean sighs dramatically. He sets the bags down on the table and pulls out a chair and takes a seat. Sam watches, frowning, as Dean immediately leans back and props his feet up on the table. There goes Sam's only chance of getting to watch the show alone. "But the zombies on there aren't even realistic," Dean adds sullenly, just in case Sam has forgotten the other four hundred times Dean's said it whenever they watched this show.

"Well. Since most people don't think zombies really exist, how realistic do you think they could be?"

"That brings me to my next point," Dean says, reaching for Sam's popcorn. When Sam opens his mouth to protest, Dean glances pointedly at Sam's abdomen. "Popcorn's not a good idea for someone with a gut wound. I'm just helping you out."

"Don't you need to put the groceries away or something?"

"Nah, there's nothing in there that needs to go in the fridge right away," Dean says nonchalantly. "So anyway. How the hell is it all these people went through their entire lives pre-zombie apocalypse and never saw a single zombie movie?"

 _"What_?" Sam asks, his attention still focused on his popcorn that Dean is already happily munching on while motioning at the screen that is still paused on the credits.

"Six seasons in and no one has ever said the word 'zombie', Sam. What the hell? Nobody ever saw _Night of the Living Dead_? Now, that's a classic zombie movie that anybody with any common sense has seen. Calling them walkers is just shitty writing."

Sam slowly shakes his head. He already feels the beginnings of a headache starting up. It occurs to him then that if Sam killed Dean in the bunker, nobody would ever find the body. Besides, it's the season finale of the most popular show on TV right now. No jury would convict him. "You know what? I'll go watch this in my room."

Dean flaps his free hand at him like he's urging Sam to stay in his chair. "No, no. It's the last episode this season, right? I wanna see it. It's supposed to have some new bad guy in it, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Sam sighs. Dean makes a gesture that is Dean-speak for 'hurry up', so Sam reluctantly taps the button to resume the episode.

The opening credits start up again, and Dean rolls his eyes and snorts derisively. Sam resists the urge to reach over and smack his brother upside the head, but only because he still has to be careful of his stitches and Dean's concussion. Sam really _likes_ the opening music. It's creepy and it always gets him in the proper mood for the rest of the episode. This is going to be an unmitigated disaster of the annoying big brother variety.

Dean has never been as into this show as Sam, because he's always preferred real zombies to the Hollywood kind. They've tried to watch it together a few times, but it never goes well. Usually Dean ends up messing around on his phone while Sam yells at whatever drama is unfolding onscreen. Afterwards, Dean typically makes fun of him for being a girl and getting upset over a soap opera with zombies.

Today will probably go no differently, because apparently Sam is just full of great ideas. Like trying to watch the show somewhere Dean could – and had – come upon him at any moment, when he could've just as easily watched the episode in his room. And been able to keep his popcorn all to himself.

There's a lull onscreen as the episode starts off with some basic filler setting up the plot, and Dean gets up suddenly and mumbles, "Back in a minute," and heads into the kitchen. Sam's about to holler after him for not taking any of the groceries with him when he hears the distinctive clink of what can only be Dean opening a beer bottle.

He pauses the show again, and calls out, "Hey. If I can't have popcorn then you still shouldn't have alcohol with a concussion, dumbass."

Dean reappears in the doorway, beer in hand. "I'm gonna need a beer to get through all the ways they're doing this apocalypse crap wrong. But I'll be good and only have one, _mom_."

Sam narrows his eyes and Dean just stares back at him, an innocent expression on his face. Dean's deflecting, as usual. Trying to rile him up by referencing their mother after they'd just had sex – albeit very careful sex - the night before. It's equal parts disturbing and effective, so Sam ends up silently resuming the show while Dean sits back down with a smirk.

Sam is still certain there had been more to it than a concussion and a couple of broken ribs because Dean had been really out of it for several days once they'd made it back to the bunker. Sam hadn't been in any shape to investigate what was going on, but he's going to find out eventually. He always does.

"So does someone die in this one?"

"Huh?"

"You know," Dean gestures at the laptop with the beer bottle. "Big season ender thing, somebody usually dies for them to get big ratings and all."

"I don't know," Sam shrugs, then thinks it over for a moment. "Nobody really important has died yet this season, so probably."

Dean squints at him and tilts his head to the side, considering. "You didn't read anything about it on the internet?"

"Nope."

"Really? Geekboy didn't have to go and look up spoilers the second he could?"

On the screen, Rick is gradually losing control of his plan as nearly the entire cast decides it's a good idea to get in the RV for an undoubtedly ill-fated road trip in an attempt to save Maggie. Sam's missing most of the dialogue while Dean quizzes him. "No. Been kind of busy with the whole sleeping and more sleeping thing," he answers, pressing a hand over his stomach. The stitches are starting to itch more than they hurt, which means they'll probably be ready to come out in a few more days.

He hates to admit it, but the episode seems to be dragging a little. After a while, they start talking about what weapons they'd want handy in a real zombie apocalypse – Sam decides on a crossbow, while Dean goes with his blade from Purgatory. Sam's just immensely relieved he didn't say the First Blade. For once, it doesn't even bother him much when Dean inevitably starts nitpicking all the little details that the show gets wrong. They talk about how tall the grass would realistically be by now, the complete lack of flies that should be swarming the dead bodies, and how long it would take before gasoline went bad. Dean decides he's willing to suspend disbelief on that fact when Sam informs Dean he'd have to ditch the gas-guzzling Impala within the first few weeks in the event of a real zombie outbreak.

Dean lets him have a little of the popcorn, but only a little, because he's still firmly in overprotective mode. Sam retaliates by swiping the beer and drinking half of it down in one long gulp, just so Dean doesn't drink more than he should. They're mostly ignoring the show, but he doesn't really mind.

"So you'd take up the crossbow, huh? Where are you gonna get the bolts from? There's no infinite ammo like on the show." Dean grins at him. "Only infinite gasoline in our zombie apocalypse, that's the rule."

"I'd get them from the same place Daryl gets them from," Sam says without missing a beat. "The nearest Wal-Mart during all the commercial breaks."

Dean throws his head back and laughs, and after the week they've just had that's okay. Hell, it's _more_ than okay in Sam's book. He's been the cause of too much of Dean's pain lately, so being a part of his happiness is totally worth missing most of his show. He finds himself smiling along with his brother, agreeing that yes, the actress that plays Maggie does look a little too much like Bela for him to really like the character.

"Where would you go in a real zombie apocalypse?" Sam asks, glancing over at Dean.

"Are you kidding? I'd stay right the fuck here. The bunker has everything we could need for years. Nothing can get in here. We'd be safe from zombies and all the crazy fuckers running around killing each other and trying to scavenge for supplies. We'd be set, man."

Sam shakes his head. "Nope. I'll give you the never-ending supply of gas for the Impala. But that's the only thing you get to keep."

Dean scowls. "Seriously?"

"That was your own rule, Dean."

"Okay, fair enough," he rubs his jaw and mutters, "huh".

Sam's lips twitch in amusement as he waits for his brother to come up with an answer. On his laptop, he's vaguely aware that Rick's group is backing up the RV – again – to try to avoid Negan's men. "I'm only halfway paying attention and even I can tell it's a trap. Why don't they just go back to Alexandria before they get caught?" Sam asks with a shake of his head.

"Because that'd make way too much sense for this show," Dean replies.

Sam nods and gives a little half-hearted shrug, conceding Dean has a point. "So where are we going to hole up? An island? Costco? A department store in a mall?"

Dean scoffs. "Amateur. An island can't be defended and all the places like those that are left over from civilization are such a zombie survival cliché they'd be overrun by half the panicked population. We'd go somewhere like Alexandria. Some place that has walls. Only we'd fortify it better with a secondary set of walls, so nobody could ram their way in by knocking one wall down like the Governor did at the prison with his truck and that conveniently oh-so-easy to find tank."

"Okay. That's actually not a half bad idea," Sam agrees, smiling wryly.

Dean holds up a hand. "Wait, I'm not done. After that, we'd build treehouses."

"You're going all Swiss Family Robinson with your apocalypse plan?"

Dean's on a roll now though, so he keeps going like Sam hadn't just insulted his idea. "They'd be up on sturdy posts. We'd have the town inside, with houses and an armory and a clinic. You'd grow a garden because you're a hippie like that, so we'd never run out of rabbit food. Even if a zombie herd somehow got in, all we'd have to do is go to our treehouses. We'd build some rope bridges so we could get from house to house. That's all we'd ever need."

"You're talking about building treehouses and I'm the hippie." Somehow Sam's not surprised by Dean's logic. "Wait though. Can't zombies climb stuff?"

Dean shakes his head, unaffected. "Heck if I know, but it doesn't matter. All we'd need is to build some zig-zag bridges in between the treehouses with no railings. The way the zombies stagger around they'd fall right off." Dean spreads his hands wide for emphasis. "Boom. We're safe."

Dean's obviously given this more than a minute or two of thought, and Sam has to laugh at the look of utter delight on his brother's face. "I think your concussion was worse than we thought," he says, but he's still grinning.

"Whatever." Dean folds his arms across his chest and juts his chin towards the laptop. "My plan's still better than anything Rick's come up with in six years."

"Rick's a good leader."

"How many people have gotten killed because of him?"

"Well, it's the apocalypse, man. People are going to die no matter who's in charge," Sam tells him. "Sometimes he has to make impossible decisions but he always tries to do the right thing."

"Sure he does," Dean shrugs at the laptop. "At least when he's not going completely batshit crazy."

"They've all been through hell. None of them would be sane by now if this were real," he reasons. "He's still a good man. He kind of reminds me of you, actually."

When Sam looks over at him, Dean's face is already flushing a deep pink shade. It quickly spreads across his cheeks until it reaches all the way to the tips of his ears. Sam loves it when Dean gets flustered like this, but he'd never admit it out loud. Finally, Dean splutters out, "I'll give you that sometimes I've gone a little batshit myself lately, but I'm not growing a crazy homeless guy beard."

Sam takes a swig from his soda. "That's a good thing, because I don't like beard burn."

When he glances back over at his brother to see how he took that, Dean's looking back at him with a slow grin. "You want to make watching this thing more interesting?" Dean asks quietly.

Sam somehow resists the urge to thump his head against the tabletop, but it's a very near thing. "It'd probably be more interesting if I actually knew what's going on."

"No it wouldn't. They're going to argue and do stupid shit until somebody gets killed because of it and then you'll have to wait six months for a new episode."

Sam reconsiders his plan and decides knocking Dean's head against the table might be the better idea, concussion and all.

"What'd you have in mind?" he asks. He's hoping if he lets Dean get whatever it is out of his system, maybe, just maybe, Dean will shut up long enough for him to get to watch some of the end of the show in relative silence.

"A little wager on who's gonna die," Dean says, arching an eyebrow in obvious challenge.

Sam bites his lower lip and pretends to think about it. He doesn't really have to think it over because he has a good idea of where this is going. "What are the terms?"

"Whoever is right gets to top."

Sam isn't the least bit surprised. Since they share their finances, all of Dean's bets with him come down to sex. "You know after last night I'm not exactly up for that yet." Between his wound and Dean's broken ribs they haven't been able to do much more than exchange hand jobs or rub off on each other for the last week.

Dean leans over, right up into Sam's personal space. He tilts his head so he's almost nuzzling at Sam's jaw, but then he pulls away and whispers, voice low and rough against Sam's ear, "I'll ride you, nice and slow, until I'm so sore I can't walk straight for a week."

"You don't walk straight now," Sam retorts, but his dick twitches with interest at the mental image. At this rate they're really never going to get through this episode. "What if we're both wrong?"

Dean shrugs. "Then we'll just fuck around anyway."

That's a win-win situation as far as Sam's concerned. "Okay then," he nods towards the laptop. "Pick your doomed character."

"Glenn. It's gotta be Glenn. It'd have the most impact because he's been around since the beginning and that creepy Bela lookalike chick is pregnant now," Dean says.

"I'm going with Daryl. I think they've been foreshadowing it all season."

Dean's staring at him like he's some kind of idiot. "He's a badass and he's everybody's favorite. They're not killing him off. I'm so gonna win this," Dean says, leaning forward a little and staring at the screen, actually starting to care about what's happening on the show now that sex is on the line.

By this time, Rick and his people have finally been captured. They are kneeling in the dirt looking frightened and defeated. Dramatic, ominous music swells as the camera pans across the group, and it's obvious the whole cat-and-mouse game has been building up to this moment. The door to the RV opens and a man wearing a leather jacket and carrying a baseball bat steps out. The lighting is pretty dark, but... he looks very familiar. Sam blinks and tilts his head to get a better look at the screen. Beside him, he hears Dean's breath catch.

 _We pissing our pants yet?_

Sam would know that voice anywhere. A tingle runs down his spine, and he leans forward as if drawn to the screen like a magnet. The new character, Negan, steps into the light and Sam gets his first good look at him. This man looks slightly older than their father had when he passed away, but he looks exactly like John Winchester would look by now if he had lived. There are a few small differences. His hair is styled a little differently. This man has a few more wrinkles and there's a little more salt and pepper in his beard, but the resemblance is so strong it's unbelievable. For a brief, hysterical moment, Sam wonders if he's looking at a demon that's slipped into his father's body to go star on a freaking television show.

Dean is the first to find his voice. "What the hell is this shit?"

"I... don't know," Sam says slowly.

"Seriously, Sam. He looks just like... how does he... What. The. Hell?"

He shrugs, at a complete loss for words. His eyes are glued to the screen, where the spitting image of his father is now pacing back and forth in front of Rick's group, a maniacal grin plastered across his face.

He really doesn't want to see any more of this, but he can't look away.

They watch in complete silence for the first time since Dean sat down to join him. Negan happily tosses threats around while Rick looks like he's going to lose his lunch. Sam is all too familiar with that feeling himself right now.

When Negan finally gets around to threatening Carl, it's just a little too surreal and fucked up to see this man that looks so much like their father interacting with a teenaged boy. His mind is racing through the possibilities. It can't actually be a demon because they burned the body. A skinwalker doesn't make any sense either, but how else can this be possible?

 _Hey! Do not make me kill the little future serial killer._

"Turn it off!" Dean orders, his voice coming out strangled.

Sam blindly scrambles for his laptop. His hands are shaking so hard he fumbles the first few times he tries to shut it off. Eventually he gives up on trying to pause or stop the episode playback and slams the laptop lid down.

Dean stands up so fast he nearly knocks his chair over. He points at the closed laptop like it's a cursed object. "What the fuck was that? First the freaky Bela chick and now this? Is Crowley running that stupid show?"

Sam has never considered that, but it would actually explain a lot. All the gruesome deaths and the gore that somehow manage to keep the audience riveted and pull in huge weekly ratings sounds exactly like something Crowley would do just to kill some boredom. "I don't know," he says again. Sam's brain seems to be stuck on those three words.

The room is too quiet now. They look at each other, both wide-eyed and breathing hard. Dean rakes his hand through his hair and abruptly turns to leave the room. "You don't want to see who dies?" Sam asks weakly.

Dean's answer is immediate. "No." He stops and scratches at his neck. "Forget the bet too. That... was a total mood killer."

"Tell me about it," Sam agrees, sighing with relief.

Dean mumbles something under his breath and then turns back to the table. He gathers up the grocery bags. "I'll put these away. Then I'm gonna go find some kind of spell to erase that shit from my memory."

"Save enough ingredients for me."

Dean smiles ruefully at him before heading out of the room. He stops in the hallway and turns around, says, "Hey Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"I like your hair much better than Daryl's. You'll always be my favorite long-haired crossbow guy in an apocalypse."

Sam grins despite himself. Dean usually threatens to cut his hair while Sam sleeps at least once a week. Coming from Dean, that's the equivalent of an 'I love you' and flowers all rolled into one. "Thanks."

Dean nods. "The rest of that episode though-" The grocery bags rattle as he waves a hand in the direction of the laptop.

"Never happened."

"Definitely."

As Dean leaves the room, Sam stands up and collects the empty popcorn bowl and discarded drinks. Sex is the absolute last thing on his mind now, and his queasiness is subsiding as long as he doesn't think about Negan. He's sure Dean is joking about the spell, but once he cleans up a little, Sam is going to do some research. He's going to find out if Crowley really does have anything to do with this sadistic TV program.

Somebody involved with that show sold their soul. It's the only reason he can think of that would explain how such a diabolical and messed up show could be this successful.


End file.
